


don’t mess with me

by celestial_horizon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Happy Hogan Needs A Drink, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kidnapping, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, The Shocker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Violence, Whump, Why Did I Write This?, adrian toomes is a dick, i’m evil, i’m so sorry peter, so is the rest of his crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_horizon/pseuds/celestial_horizon
Summary: peter learns the hard way not to mess with things he doesn’t understandorin which toomes discovers spider-man’ s identity before homecoming and sets about to make sure he never messes with his business again





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This idea popped into my head at 2 am and I couldn’t sleep, so here we are!
> 
> Before we begin I would like to clarify a few things regarding the story. 
> 
> \- The first shocker, Jackson Brice, is still alive. I just really liked his character and think it would be fun to play around with it.  
> \- After the monument, Liz was so shaken up and didn’t want to give her parents the specifics so she simply said she saw it off on the ground. Hence why Toomes isn’t giving Peter a free pass. 
> 
> I hope you don’t mind the changes! Enjoy! :)

 

Peter was practically bouncing with excitement as he passed Jackson Avenue. The fact that he had left detention was, in his mind, the least of his worries right now. The teenager figured it wouldn’t matter; that after bringing down the guys with the wings and his business he would be free of all this high school bullshit.

 

Now that he had Karen, he would catch these guys in no time. Tony would reward Peter with a spot on the Avengers, he would move upstate, etc. Sure, he would miss the decathlon team but he saw no reason why he couldn’t keep in touch.

 

The hero was a block away from his apartment building when he felt a familiar tingling at the back of his neck. Peter stopped abruptly and looked around. Nothing out the ordinary was happening, though he did know there was an alleyway around the corner that was a hot spot for muggings.

 

He decided to check it out. Was it stupid trying to stop a potential crime as Peter Parker? Maybe. But if something was going down he didn’t have the 2 minutes it took him to change into his suit to spare.

 

Sliding off his backpack, Peter peeked around the corner. He spotted a white van and heard some scuffling behind a dumpster. Okay. Something was definitely going on.

The van was facing the opposite exit of the alley, so he couldn’t see whether anybody was in it. The noise behind the dumpster continued as Peter drew closer to it. Sounds of two people struggling could be heard and the teen quickened his pace, balling his hands into fists at his sides as he prepared to stop whatever was happening.

 

He took two big steps and turned to face the perpetrator, ready to punch somebodies lights out. Instead, he came face-to-face with two adults fighting over... a pen? The men stopped tugging at it and faced Peter.

 

“Is everything alright? It sounded like someone was in trouble,” Pete said wearily. His spidey sense was still going crazy and he wondered if one of the guys had a weapon hidden in their pockets.

 

“Is that him?” The smaller man whispered to the other. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He began to take a step back.

 

“That’s what the boss said,” as soon as he spoke it hit him.

   
These were the guys that had come to Peter's school last week. The guys who worked for the vulture dude.

 

He took another step back. The fact that Peter was “him” wasn’t exactly a good thing to hear from the guy who was trying to kill him the other day. This was a job for Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

 

“Well, uh, you guys take care,” Pete said as he attempted to conceal the concern on his face, however, he didn’t make it two steps before the guy with the yellow sleeves yelled “Now!” And the dormant van roared to life, screeching as it backed up.

 

Peter had to leap forward as to avoid getting run over and crashed into the criminals, only to in turn get shoved back by the two men and slammed into the white van. If only he had kept his backpack on, he wouldn’t have been winded.

 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case which gave the men an advantage as Peter’s reaction time was delayed while he took a second to recover from the surprise of what had happened in the last few seconds.

 

That second proved to be a vital one that shouldn’t have been wasted. The smaller man lifted the pen between Peter’s eyes, pressed a button, and the last thing the hero saw was an explosion of blue light before he felt a blinding pain in his head.  
 

 

* * *

  
   
"You sure this is the right guy?”

 

”Positive.”

 

”He’s just a kid. How old did you say he was?”

 

“15”

 

”Jesus.”

 

The voices got louder as Peter drifted into consciousness. The teen stirred, lifting his head from its position against his chest for a second before his head pounded in protest, a small groan escaping his lips.

 

“Look who’s awake,” one of the guys said. He didn’t recognize the voice. Peter kept his head down, eyes screwed shut.

 

A second later, his face was doused with ice cold water, some of it getting up his nose causing him to cough. He shuddered as the liquid got under his shirt and slid down his chest.

 

Peter cracked his eyes open, squeezing them shut again as the light hit. He was sure it wasn’t that bright, but whatever they had knocked him out with seemed to have some nasty after effects.

 

Pete winced when someone violently tugged at his hair, forcibly lifting his head up. The light seemed dimmer now and he was able to scan his surroundings.

 

He was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, the two guys from the alley watching him from the far side of the room and two more standing closer. The guy that was grabbing his hair was older, the wrinkles on his face so pronounced it was hard to tell what he might’ve looked like when he was younger. The man standing to Peter’s right was a lot younger, though he had a long beard and sported a buzz cut that made him balder than the man with the wrinkles.

 

The teen struggled against the guy’s grip, in doing so realizing that his arms were pulled behind his back, clamped in some sort of metal cuffs that were attached to the back of the chair. The same went for his legs, “I wouldn’t bother with those,” the man said as he released his grip on Peter. “They’re vibranium,” he smirked. Peter paled. He knew these guys were dangerous, but how did they get their hands on _vibranium_?

 

”Anyways,” he continued, “Sorry about the way they had to bring you here. I wasn’t sure of the extent of your powers and I couldn’t take a chance. Those things hurt like a bitch.”

 

Peter stared at him, “Who are you? Why am I here?” He croaked, plastering a look of fake terror on his face. Not that he wasn’t scared, Peter just hoped that it would convince them he was just some teenager and they had the wrong guy. Adrian sighed at this.

 

“We’re not idiots, Spider-Man,” Peter blanched but didn’t say anything. “We know your little secret.”

 

”W-What are you talking about?” Peter fiddled with the cuffs.

 

“It wasn’t too hard to figure out, really. We knew you were on Iron Man’s side during that whole thing in Germany, all we had to do was interrogate a few of Stark’s employees and get them to give us access to a couple of files. It was quite surprising. A kid like you? Spider-Man? One that goes to my daughter's school, no less.”

 

He looked the criminal dead in the eyes, ”I’m not Spider-Man.”

 

”Nice try, but the suit was in your backpack,” he smirked.

 

”I, uh, was holding it for a-“

 

”For a friend, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he turned around going just out of reach of the light coming from the lamp hanging above Peter's head. He emerged with a bat.

 

”I would like to formally introduce myself. My name is Adrian. I run this place. We sell weapons made from alien technology left over from the messes your Avenger buddies make. It’s a good business. Makes good money, helps me provide for my family. And you,” he walks back towards Peter, pointing the bat at him. “Are the bastard that’s trying to take it all from me."

 

He motions towards the shorter man that was in the alleyway, "This is Randy. Good guy. I’ve known him for years. He never complains, always does what he’s supposed to. You know why? He’s got a family of 6 to take care of. His wife has cancer. How else is he supposed to pay her hospital bills?” This did make Peter feel a pang of guilt. “You wanna know something else? We were doing a deal on the Staten Island Ferry earlier today and guess who decided to show up? The FBI,” _What?_ Peter thought. He hadn’t called them. “Everyone got out okay, but that’s another deal we lost. Do you have any idea who’s lives are at stake here, Peter?”

 

”Yeah, and do you know how many lives you put at stake every day by selling these weapons? These things can kill people,” Did he not see the hypocrisy and irony in all this?

 

Adrian advanced towards Peter, lifting the bat so it was inches from his face. The hero tensed up, leaning as far back into the chair as he could.

 

”And that brings us to why you’re here. We’ll make a deal: You leave us be and I continue to sell these weapons. You can get take to the streets, stop all the guys who are using these weapons and continue to do your whole superhero gig. It’s a win-win.”

 

”I-I can’t do that,” Peter spoke into the bat, uselessly tugging at the restraints.

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“I can’t be on the streets all the time. If you keep giving these out there’s no telling how much damage they’ll do and-“

  
Peter was interrupted by a loud, wet, sickening crack. The pain the followed was agonizing; shooting throughout his leg from his knee. A scream tore its way up his throat, drowning out the winces and “Ooo”s that came from the people watching. Toomes had broken his leg with the baseball bat.

 

The sound died in the teen's throat, becoming a series of winces and groans as the initial pain subsided, though he stifled a whimper when he looked down and saw a bump in his pant leg that wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

The bearded man whistled and sauntered towards Peter, crouching down so he was level with Peter’s torn knee.

 

”Shit, boss. Never seen you do something like that before,” he said as he gripped the knee. Pete’s body screamed in protest, a cry of pain escaping his lips.

 

”Hey!” Toomes pushed the guy away, “Hands off,” He backed up, lifting his hands in defense. Peter almost thanked Toomes.

 

“Now,” the villain continued, “If you don’t accept my offer, that knee is going to be the least of your problems.”

 

Peter knew that he should just accept. If not then he should at least pretend to. But these guys knew his identity. If they ever caught even a whiff of Spider-Man near their business, they’d go after everybody he loves. May, Ned. Hell, he doesn’t doubt these guys would go after the decathlon team. But Peter couldn’t possibly accept. The people he sold these weapons to were 10 times more reckless than even Peter. They destroyed Mr. Delmar’s shop in two seconds flat, and if Toomes got his hands on more powerful stuff, everyday criminals would have the power to level whole skyscrapers. Hundreds could die and it would be on Peter’s hands. He wouldn’t be able to live with that on his conscious.

 

So, despite everything, Peter shook his head. “I-I can’t,” he said, voice shaking.

 

The villain dropped his head, fiddling with the bat. He sighed and from what Peter could tell it was genuine disappointment.

 

“You’re bringing this onto yourself, Pete.”

 

Toomes swung his fist. The wedding ring on his finger cut into Peter's cheek. He braced himself for the blows to come.

 

Lord, help him.

 

* * *

  
 

   
Peter could barely feel his face. Cuts littered it and his right eye was slowly beginning to swell shut. He felt the sting of a busted lip and his tongue was slightly coated with blood from it being knocked against his teeth so violently.

 

At some point, Toomes had abandoned using his bare fists and opted to use the baseball bat instead. How a man could be so merciless over a business, Peter couldn’t understand.

 

The first swing landed his stomach, causing him to double over as much as the vibranium cuffs would allow him. The force left him breathless, gasping for breath even as the second swing landed. Then the third. The fourth landed higher, hitting and cracking one of his ribs. The fifth hit landed higher as well, cracking at least two more. The ache radiated throughout his whole body, making him nauseous.

 

A small break between hits gave Peter a chance to sputter out a few weak words.

 

”S-Stop! Stop,” he gasped. “Please, I’m-“

The response he got was a swift crack across the temple, courtesy of the bat. For a moment he hoped it would be enough to knock him out and give him a break from the hurt, instead it just intensified the throb that spread throughout his face, causing his ears to ring and vision to blur.

 

When Peter became oriented a few seconds later he realized it wasn’t Toomes who had swung the bat; it was the bearded man. Through his haze, Peter thought he heard him get called... Jason? Jackson?

 

Jackson walked towards Pete.

 

“We have to step out for a bit. To make sure you don’t cause any trouble,” He wrapped some sort of thick cord around Peter’s forearms, clicking a few buttons on whatever it was connected to, then stepped away.

 

A moment passed, then Peter was on fire. The device began to burn through his jacket sleeves as it electrocuted him, causing him to seize. He screamed as electricity coursed through his body for at least 30 seconds before it stopped, leaving him panting. His body continued to jerk at random.

 

By the time it was over everybody had left, leaving Peter alone. The adrenaline began to wear off and only now did Pete realize just how tired he was. His torso hurt all over, as did his face, and he could imagine fresh bruises beginning to form.  Those weren’t really the issue, however. The things he was worried about were the broken bones. His advanced healing factor came in handy more often than not but with broken bones, it was cause for a major concern. His body would begin healing itself whether he liked it or not, meaning if his bone was broken like it was, it could heal the wrong way. Peter couldn’t set the bone when he was restrained.

 

He didn’t even know the extent of the fracture. The pain in the area was too great for him to pinpoint anything, so it could have broken through his skin and he wouldn’t know. The thought of it healing outside his body made him nauseous. He needed to think of something else so he didn’t completely freak out.

 

Peter looked around. The room was huge, probably in some old warehouse of sorts. There were at least three doors that he could see. They taunted him with the thought of escape and he found himself pulling on the cuffs again. Jackson was right; that electrocution really did do a good job in making sure he didn’t cause any trouble. Even if Peter was able to somehow break through the vibranium, his body was left so weak he did think he would even be able to break through ropes.

 

Eventually, Pete gave up, slumping in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut, instead focusing on trying to block out the pain as much as he could.

 

”Sorry about all this,” a voice said to Peter’s left. He snapped his eyes open to the taller man from the alleyway sitting in a chair.

 

“What?” Peter asked. The man shifted, looking uncomfortable as if he was trying to find the right words to say. His dark complexion shined in the light.

 

”I took this job 8 years ago because I got screwed over by Tony Stark. Back then, all that was on my mind was the money. I just needed a job to take care of myself and myself only. I probably wouldn’t have continued doing all this illegal bullshit if that was still the case, but then my daughter came along. She’s 7 now. I love her with my whole being, but I could never see myself doing this for her.”

 

Peter stared blankly at him.

 

“I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. I get he’s angry— I’m pissed too, believe me. But this is torture. I mean, there’s gotta be another way to do this. I’ve never seen Adrian do something like it,” he continued, shaking his head. Peter nodded.

 

“Well, then could you get me out? Help me out of these things?” The teen winced at the slight burns on his arms where the device was wrapped around them.

 

“Sorry, kid. I can’t do that. It’s vibranium, not even you could break out of them. How would I get him to believe that?” Peter huffed in frustration. “Plus, I still have a family to take care of. As wrong as I think this situation is, I’m not about to play hero.”

 

After 5 minutes of silence, the device went off again, this time stronger. There was no more fabric to burn through so the cords singed Peter’s skin, the air smelling like burnt toast even after it finished. This episode left Peter trembling and weak, so weak it took too much effort to even speak.

 

 

”W-Why did you do that?” He ground out, sounding both scared and annoyed.

 

“It wasn’t me. It’s set to go off every 10 minutes,” he replied. Peter glanced over and could see obvious guilt on the man’s face.

 

“If you’re not gonna let me go, can’t you at least t-turn this off?” The man didn’t respond. “Please,” Peter hated the way he said that. To him, it sounded pathetic. He was supposed to be an Avenger. Steve Rogers surely wouldn’t crack in this situation, so why did Peter?

 

”I can’t turn it off,” he stood up. “But I can set it to the lowest voltage.”

 

This was good enough for the teen. “Thank you,” he rasped when he heard audible clicks and the turn of a dial. He just hoped this guy wasn’t as sick as the Jackson dude and he didn’t turn it to its highest setting as some cruel joke.

 

As promised, the next time it went off it was considerably less painful than the last, even when it continued to burn his flesh. The most it made Peter do was grit his teeth and hold his breath as he shook lightly instead of all-out seizing. When it was over he was still left short of breath yet incredibly relieved.

 

It went off 6 more times in the span of an hour. Neither Peter nor the man— Schultz, he said his name was at some point— said a word.

 

* * *

  
 

   
Peter was, oddly enough, somewhat grateful that he was in this much pain. Instead of being immersed in self-deprecating thoughts that surely would have plagued him, he was able to focus on the aching, burning, and throbbing that seemed to cover almost every inch of his body. Peter didn’t know why they had been gone for so long. For all he knew they were finding and killing Aunt May.

 

That’s where the pain ‘helped’. He focused on the worst of it and the thought vanished.

 

Pete didn’t know how long it had been. He had given up on counting how many times he had gotten electrocuted, but he guessed they were gone for just over 2 hours when Adrian and Jackson burst through the doors. The teen snapped to attention, fear becoming prominent in his gut when he saw how furious Toomes was.

 

The criminal didn’t slow down as he advanced across the room towards Peter, taking out his pistol from its place on his belt. He smacked it hard against Pete’s face, pain flaring where it had already been heavily bruised. Toomes then pressed it hard against Peter’s temple, the hero’s spidey sense blaring once again. He stifled a whimper. 

 

Schultz stood up. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said.

  
Adrian’s eyes burned into Peter’s, the older man’s filled with fury and rage while the latter’s was filled with fear and confusion.

 

”Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right where you’re sitting,” he sneered. The gun was digging unbearably into Peter’s skin.

 

”Boss, this wasn’t the plan,” Schultz said to their left.

 

“They got Randy. He’s in custody.”

 

The room was silent.

 

Toomes didn’t take his eyes or the gun off of Peter. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you little shit? You let your buddy Iron Man know about us, didn’t you? You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. And now what? His kids are going to have to grow up without a father. His wife is going to die without the treatment and it’s your fault.”

He took his free hand and gripped Peter’s throat. Not enough to completely cut off his airways but enough to scare the teen and make breathing more difficult, “You know what else? Randy isn’t one to do well under pressure. These cops are relentless and I don’t doubt they’ll use his wife to get information out of him. Our whole operation is in jeopardy all because you had to play hero,” with the last word Toomes released his throat but instead gripped Peter’s bad knee. Hard. The teen screamed out. Adrian grasped it even harder and Pete both felt and heard something crunch. The pain was indescribable, causing his vision to white out for a moment.

 

“Boss!” Schultz yelled. Toomes released the teen’s knee with a huff, his hand coming back bloody. If it wasn’t already a compound fracture, now it was. Peter was left gasping, no longer holding back the tears as he let them flow freely. “We just need him out of the picture until the big one. He’s obviously close to Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers. If we kill him we won’t last two days,” he reasoned. Toomes grit his teeth, letting out a groan of frustration as he lowered the gun, throwing it across the room.

 

“Alright, Jackson,” He said. “Go get it.”

 

He did as asked, disappearing for a moment while Toomes paced back and forth, the only sound in the room being his angry footsteps and Peter’s shaky and uneven breaths.

 

The man emerged with a key and syringe filled with some kind of red liquid. Peter’s eyes went wide with fear upon seeing it and began to struggle in place again when it was handed to Adrian.

 

The villain tread towards Pete, holding the syringe in the air as if to frighten him even more. Toomes stopped in front of Peter, bringing the syringe down but missed due to the teen’s jerking as he tried to avoid the needle.

 

”Don’t touch me!” Peter hissed. Adrian ignored him, grabbing a fistful of hair to keep his head still as he plunged the needle into his neck.

 

Pete felt the area surrounding the needle burn as the drug was injected into him. Immediately his vision swam, eyes no longer wide with fear but droopy with drowsiness. He slumped in the chair, his body below his neck feeling relaxed. Too relaxed.

 

He wanted to ask them what the hell they had just drugged him with but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. When he tried to talk his mouth simply fell slightly open, no sound coming out.

 

”How long did he say this thing took to work?” Toomes asked, stepping back as his eyes surveyed Peter.

 

“About 30 minutes,” Jackson replied, no remorse or sympathy in his eyes. Schultz, however, was a totally different story. He looked almost uncomfortable as he watched Peter in this state, the same look of disapproval and guilt he had earlier still plastered on his face.

 

“Well then, we’d better get this show on the road,” Toomes exclaimed as he walked back towards Peter, crouching down so he was level with his knees again. The teen braced himself for the pain that never came. Instead of tormenting the hero again, Adrian inserted the key into a slot in one of the legs of the chair, turning it until the cuffs around Pete’s arms and legs opened.

 

In his drugged state, Peter fell off the chair and onto the cold floor. His heart rate increased as he realized that this was his chance to escape, not even bothering to wonder why Toomes released him in the first place.

 

Except Peter couldn’t get up.

 

He tried to lift himself up, but he couldn’t. His body shook with the effort as if there was 10 tons of concrete weighing him down. Peter attempted to move his legs, but the same went for them. It was as if his whole body had fallen asleep the way a leg would, but this was so much worse.

 

Someone grabbed his arms where his burns were (no doubt on purpose) and began to drag him out of the room.

 

Peter wanted to kick and scream, to run away and never look back. He wanted to make sure Aunt May and Ned were safe because for all he knew they could already be dead. He wanted Toomes to stop gripping the burns so hard because _shit_ that hurt but Peter just could not fucking move his body. Every time his leg even slightly jostled it sent an excruciating pain throughout his entire lower half and it was all he could do not to scream. _If this is paralyzing me_ , Peter thought, _couldn’t it have at least cut off the sensation below my waist?_  

 

He was dragged out of the room and into another which he assumed was their main place of operation. Computers were everywhere, boxes and crates which were probably filled with alien tech littered the place. Weapons were also scattered throughout the warehouse. Prototypes, Peter assumed. No one else was here, however, and when he was finally set back onto the ground he looked up through a window in the ceiling to see a sky painted with orange and pink— the colors of dawn in New York City that he was so familiar with waking up to.

 

God, he should be getting ready for school right about now.

 

To his right Peter saw Toomes putting on a brown leather jacket, buckling some kind of belt around his waist. If this was any other circumstance the teen would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked with that huge fur collar on.

 

He then disappeared above Peter’s head, climbing up some stairs onto a platform. Pete didn’t realize what was going on until he heard the familiar sound of drones and whirr of mechanical wings overhead. His stomach filled with dread as he saw and heard Toomes, now The Vulture, slamming down onto the ground, heavy metal feet on either side of his head. Peter then felt the talons clamp around his biceps, lifting him until he was in a sitting up position.

 

Pete found it strange that his leg didn’t hurt more, especially with the way it was straightened out, but the way his body was starting to tingle he guessed whatever Jackson had said would take 30 minutes had begun to take effect.

 

Pete watched as the dust and dirt that covered the floor blew away as Toomes readied them for flight. The teen’s weary eyes widened when he heard heavy metal doors screeching open on the ceiling, his stomach dropping as the two flew up and exited the warehouse.

 

Through his haze of pain— or was it the drugs?— Peter noticed the sun rising over the Manhattan skyline. Even after living here his whole life it never ceased to amazing him. The windows of skyscrapers beginning to light up, helicopters for the morning talk shows making their rounds around the island, the morning rush.

 

But now was not the time to reminisce. He was, quite literally, heading into the darkness. Adrian flew Northwest, away from the business and light of the city and towards the quiet and still-dark sky of upstate New York which still hadn’t quite woken up yet. Where could he be going that’s upstate?

 

Just as Peter realized he knew exactly where he was going, he finally lost consciousness, the ground whizzing past below him.

 

* * *

 

Peter awoke again just in time to realize he was falling. No, not falling. He was hurtling towards one of the main buildings of the Avengers Compound. The Vulture must have thrown him.

  
_Crash_

 

He smashed through the huge window full force, slamming into the ground on his side. Glass rained down everywhere, and he could feel numerous cuts on his face. If the rest of his body didn’t feel like he was being poked with a thousand needles due to the drug, he had no doubt he would be able to feel cuts there too.

 

Peter’s eyes trailed to his arm which was extended out to his side, and he noticed a shard of glass sticking out of his forearm just below his elbow. He sucked in a breath when he heard a scream, a gasp, and a quick “What the hell?”

 

Suddenly he was turned on his back, three faces staring down at him. The first was Tony Stark. The second was a woman with long, bright orange hair. The third Peter recognized from school, the row of scientists above the whiteboard in his physics classroom. Bruce Banner. The woman was talking quickly, but Pete couldn't seem to make it out.

 

Somebody was shaking him, he realized, the action snapping him back to attention, somewhat clearing his fuzzy mind for a second.

 

”..eter. Peter!” Tony was yelling. The teen looked from the ceiling to Tony, his eyes locking onto the billionaires.

 

“Mi’ssr St’rk?” Peter slurred.

 

”Christ, kid, what the hell happened?” Concern was etched on his face, no doubt surprised by Peter’s state. The hero could now barely see out of his left eye because of the swelling. He tasted blood, but he wasn’t so sure it was only because of the cuts on his tongue anymore. He couldn't feel much below his waist besides the tingles that covered it, but Pete took it as a good sign when he felt an ache radiate from his knee.

 

The ache intensified drastically when he saw the woman move and Peter guessed she accidentally nudged it somehow. A loud groan escaped his lips and the three adults that were fussing over him looked down unanimously. Tony cursed under his breath, Bruce stood up and ran somewhere, coming back with a first aid kit, and the woman paled, gagging before stepping away.

 

The tingles turned into stabbing pains all over his body. Peter, winced, shivering as though he had been dropped into a frozen lake.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Tony spoke up, “Why is he shaking?”

 

“He may be going into shock,” Bruce said, appearing far more calm than Tony. “With a wound like this, I’m not surprised. It might already be infected.”

 

No. That couldn’t be why could it? He might be going into shock but he was shivering because of the drug.

 

The drug that they had no idea about.

 

Peter tried his words. “D-” was all he could get out. He tried to take in a breath but that too was getting increasingly difficult.

 

“Peter, I need you to calm down for me,” Bruce requested. No, no, no. Yeah, he was scared but he wasn’t totally freaking out. He was at the Avengers compound. People would help him here, right? His breaths weren’t panicked, they were desperate. He was having trouble breathing not because he was scared but because his body simply wasn’t allowing him to draw in normal breaths.

 

“Not scared,” Peter finally managed to get out. “In-Injected with drug. Tingles b-below neck,” With every word, he got increasingly lightheaded from the lack of breath and he instinctively shut his eyes at the lights that seemed to be getting brighter. Who was doing that? Was that simply his mind tripping him out?

 

”Peter, buddy, you gotta keep your eyes open for me, okay?” Tony held his calloused hands around the teen’s head. “Kid, what drug? What did they inject you with?”

 

Peter couldn't respond. The tingles had stopped as did the ache he was still able to somewhat feel from his knee. In a panic he realized; it must have been thirty minutes. He couldn't feel anything at all. Which also meant he couldn’t breathe.

 

He tried to get his chest to expand, to suck in even the tiniest breathe, but like his legs, it just wouldn’t cooperate. His mouth opened uselessly and he could see parts of his body beginning to jerk. Pete remembered something from the anatomy class he had been taking, that if you were unable to breathe that your brain would begin to take oxygen from your muscles or any other part of the body it could. He guessed that was what was happening to him.

 

Bruce’s eyes went wide and he disappeared from view again, probably to get more medical supplies.

 

“Peter, oh god, who did this to you?” Tony’s voice faded out as first yellow, then black spots began to cloud his vision.

 

He didn't even remember fully losing consciousness.

 

* * *

   
“Yeah, Ms. Parker, I know. It was a stupid move. It just completely slipped my mind somehow. His phone must’ve just been dead and we were too busy to think to charge it. Absolutely. We need all hands on deck and he’s my smartest intern. Of course, Ms. Parker. It won’t happen again. Thank you. Bye.”

 

Peter’s eyes fluttered open. He expected there to be some kind of bright, blinding light like there always was in the movies and TV shows, but the lights seemed to be dimmed quite a bit in the room, which looked like a hospital room. Tony Stark’s back was to him, the billionaire heaving a long sigh before running a hand through his already-messy hair.

 

As Pete became more aware he began to take in his surroundings but was stopped as he started choking, eyes watering when he felt something in his throat. Tony whipped around, the bags under his eyes almost as dark as the room they were in. He pressed the nurse call button before strutting over to Peter, who was still scared and confused. The teen’s terrified eyes met Tony’s.

 

”Hey, kid. Gave us huge scare back there. You’re okay now,” he said, attempting to calm the boy. Peter began gagging as Bruce Banner rushed into the room, a woman in scrubs by his side.

 

”Peter, I need you to try not to move your head so much, okay?” He said, still unbelievably calm as ever, “I’m sorry, I know it must be unpleasant but you need it to help you breathe.”

 

The doctor was right. The tube that snaked its way down Peter’s throat seemed to be forcing air into his lungs and when he tried breaking the steady pattern by taking a breath of his own, he found he couldn't.

 

“How is he conscious?” The short, dark-haired woman whispered. Even in this state, though, he still had heightened senses. He could hear her clear as day.

 

“I don’t know. Tony mentioned something about an advanced healing factor, so I’m thinking his metabolism is burning through the drugs faster than I initially anticipated,” Bruce mumbled back, “Up the dosage by 100 milliliters. That should do it."

 

Peter felt something cold rush into the crook of his arm. He welcomed the darkness.  
 

 

* * *

  
   
Peter came to for what felt like the hundredth time during all this, the only difference this time being he was in zero pain. He also noticed that the tubes were replaced with a catheter. The lights were still dimmed, and instead of Tony standing in front of him, the orange-haired lady sat in the corner of the room reading a book.

 

Upon noticing he was awake, she didn’t run towards him or freak out which Pete was thankful for. Instead, she calmly placed a bookmark in the book before setting it down on the chair where she had been sitting. Pressing the call button, the woman walked to Peter’s bedside.

 

“Hi, Peter,” she said with a warm smile, “I’m Pepper— a friend of Tony’s. He’ll be here in a second. Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

The teen’s voice was sore and scratchy, “Throat hurts,” it came out raspy and hoarse, earning him a cough.

 

“Yes, that’s expected after having been intubated,” Doctor Bruce Banner said as he entered the room in a button-up shirt, Tony and the same woman from earlier following close behind, “How’re you feeling, Peter?”

 

”Been better,” He replied.

 

“We believe you were injected with succinylcholine. It’s a paralytic drug. We were able to counter it with a quick antidote of sorts, but even with your healing and metabolism, it’ll take a few days to completely work,” Peter nodded, “Can you move your fingers?” Pete successfully flexed his hand, managing to curl it into a fist. He found, however, it still took way too much effort to do so.

 

Doctor Banner continued to evaluate him, checking the progress of the antidote. Peter was only able to move his arms and neck. Bruce said it had only been a day and it was expected that Pete could only move his body above his waist, but that didn’t stop the hero from being discouraged. Hero. Could he even call himself that?

 

”Peter, Can you tell us what happened?” Bruce said carefully. The teen’s heart monitor sped up and he avoided eye contact. He didn't want to have to retell the story, much less in front of everybody, so he was grateful when Tony stood up and ushered everybody else out of the room.

 

“I got this,” He said uncertainly. The billionaire pulled up a chair to the foot of the bed. Peter studied his own leg, which was elevated by a pillow, covered in a thick, white cast.

 

“Thank god for Bruce. You know, he went missing for almost two years and only returned two days ago. It’s a crazy story. I’ll have to tell you sometime,” Peter was silent. Tony sighed, “Kid, if we’re gonna help you, we need to know what happened. You sure as hell didn’t do this to yourself, so we need to know who did.”

 

”May,” Peter whispered.

 

“It’s taken care of. I told her you were at another ‘retreat’,” Tony grinned. Peter shook his head.

 

“No. They’ll go after May. I can’t-“ He stopped when his voice broke, his nose burning as he felt tears beginning to form.

 

“Peter, did this have to do with Spider-Man?” The teen nodded, “And they know your identity?” He nodded again, “Alright. Shit...” The genius rubbed his face with his hands.

 

“Peter, I’ll protect your aunt. I’ll have cops at your apartment around the clock. Hell, I’ll station a suit outside your door. But you need to tell me what happened,” Tony pleaded.

 

Peter let it all out.

 

Everything from their names to a description of the exterior of the warehouse he had caught a glimpse of while flying over it. Tony listened intently, plastering a calm look on his face even though Peter could tell that everything he was saying horrified the billionaire.

 

"It'll be okay, kid," he had said reassuringly before exiting the room in a hurry.

 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Peter slumped back into the bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally. His throat hurt from all the talking he had just done and a dull ache covered almost every inch of his body despite the pain meds they were pumping into him. He picked at the burn bandages around his forearms, fingers continuing to shake with effort as he did so.

 

Sighing, the teen closed his eyes, praying he could get one more peaceful rest in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had messed with the kid. Now Tony was going to mess with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is finally out !!
> 
> Note to everybody who had read this work previous to me posting this:
> 
> As you may know, I has originally planned there to be two more parts to this story. I had them both completely written out, and when I was editing the very last chapter I fell asleep. When I woke up, those two works were gone. I have no idea what happened, but I'm unable to recover them and there's now way I'd be able to rewrite the entirety of those two works.
> 
> So, here we are ! I'm quite happy with how this little alternative ending of sorts worked out, though.
> 
> I apologize to anybody who I may have disappointed ! Enjoy !

 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, I want everything you got on these bastards,' Tony yelled as he stormed into the conference room where Pepper and Happy were sitting. The man readied a holographic screen, already pulling up the NYPD's criminal database, "Adrian Toomes, Herman, Schultz, Jackson Brice. A guy named Randy was arrested recently for arms dealing. Bring him up if you find him."

 

"Yes, boss."

 

Tony ran a hand down his face, scratching his scruffy beard as he waited for his A.I. to bring up the records.

 

"What'd he say?" Happy asked, straightening out his suit as he stood up. Even though he thought Peter was a real pain in the ass, Happy had to admit that the kid had grown on him and the man had become just as concerned as Tony.

 

"Those fuckers found out Peter's identity and practically tortured him for trying to bust their weapons operation. They threatened his aunt and friends, too," he seethed, typing away at the screen as F.R.I.D.A.Y gathered all the information. Pepper appeared at Tony's side, gently rubbing his arm for comfort.

 

"They did that to him?" Happy asked, bewildered. Tony nodded. "Jesus," The driver gripped the chair he had previously been sitting in to steady himself as the news sunk in, "He's just a kid."

 

"No criminal records found for 2 of the individuals," Tony clenched his jaw, "Record found for Jackson Brice. He was arrested for petty theft in 2007 and has an address in Brooklyn."

 

"I want an APB on him and a lookout stationed outside his house. Tell the cops to follow him in the morning. He'll lead us right to the warehouse."

 

"Yes, boss," they replied. Tony, unsatisfied, checked every criminal database in the U.S.for Toomes. He got every piece of data he could find on the criminal; His address, family, credit card number, license plate. Hell, he even included his social security number.

 

"Tony," Pepper spoke, just as the mechanic was going to leave. He ignored her. "Hey, _Tony_."

 

The man stopped in his tracks, staring straight ahead.

 

"I'm gonna kill him. When that dickhead leads us to the warehouse tomorrow, I'm going to fly in and make that asshole Toomes suffer like he made Peter suffer," Tony blurted, turning to face Pepper. She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

 

"As much as I would like that to happen, I don't think that's the best course of action," This only angered Tony more.

 

"Pep, this guy _tortured_ Peter!" He pressed on, "He broke his leg, electrocuted him, shot him up with some drug and flung him into a window, leaving him to die. A guy who has no qualms about killing a 15-year-old kid doesn't deserve courtesy."

 

Pepper was silent for a moment. "I don't disagree, but Peter wouldn't want you to kill him. This guy has a family, right? A daughter about Peter's age?"

 

"Yeah, but-"

 

"How would it make Peter feel if he knew that he was the reason for the death of a man? A father, no less."

 

"Peter's not going to be the one killing him. I am," Tony grumbled, taking another step out of the room. Another voice spoke up

.

"Tony, this kid's got a bigger guilt complex than you. He'll find a way to turn it on himself and you know it," Happy strode into the hallway where the two were standing. "I hate this guy as much as you do, but I think it's best to refrain from killing him," Tony averted his eyes, staring down a painting on the wall rather menacingly. "For the sake of Peter." 

 

"If I said he attacked me and it was self-defense-"

 

Happy and Pepper gave him death glares.

 

Tony exhaled, defeated. They were right. "Fine," Pepper's grip on his hand relaxed. "But I'm still going to be there when they bust his operation. Don't get mad if he ends up in an ambulance."

 

"I'm not stopping you there, boss," Happy said, satisfied. The three went their separate ways. The driver to visit Peter, Pepper to catch up on company business she missed, and Tony to his lab. He had a little more research to do.

 

* * *

 

The next day, the police radioed in that Tony's plan had worked. The cops had a visual on the warehouse and everyone in it, now they just had to keep quiet and wait for Tony to arrive. He had made it very clear that nobody was to make a move without the Man of Iron present, stating that whoever did would be swiftly "given the boot". Whether that was meant literally or figuratively, nobody wanted to find out.

 

5 minutes from his destination, Tony heard another set of repulsors that weren't his own. A second later the familiar silver of the War Machine suit was flying in his peripheral vision.

 

"Rhodey? Aren't you supposed to be in Syria?"

 

"The mission ended last night. I was in town and I thought I'd stop by. Help you out just like the old days, y'know?"

 

Tony sighed. "Pepper sent you to keep an eye on me?"

 

"Well, Pepper, Happy, Bruce. Me," Tony flew a bit faster at that. Didn't they trust him?

 

Rhodey caught up with him. "It's not that we don't trust you, Tones," He said as if reading the hero's mind, "These dudes have weapons from the Chitauri and Sokovia. I wouldn't like to see what happens when one of them panics and blows up the street block because Iron Man decided to drop by," Rhodey reasoned. He was right. During a scan of the building, the police had detected about 37 individuals. 37 people who were armed and dangerous. It was more than a good idea to have back up.

 

5 minutes later, the two landed (with the help of an invention Tony had whipped up the previous night) soundlessly beside an undercover SWAT vehicle on the south side of the building. The police captain motioned for the men to move out, and all around Tony and Rhodey men dressed in riot gear with guns came out of hiding, advancing slowly towards the warehouse.

 

The two followed suit, boots stomping softly against the ground. F.R.I.D.A.Y scanned the designated point of entry, double checking that there were no criminals lounging in the room. Once Tony was given the all clear he held up his suited arm, a red-hot beam emitting from the end of it, slowly yet efficiently cutting through the wall of the building.

 

Once all that was left was a wide, glowing circle, Rhodey blasted the metal to create an entrance for the forces.

 

Heart beating quickly in anticipation, Tony stepped through the opening with his arms raised and repulsors at the ready.

 

The empty room of the warehouse they were walking through contained nothing but a lamp dangling from the ceiling, a machine with a long cord, and a chair accompanied by a bat that leaned against it. Blood was splattered around the area and the realization of what this room was hit Tony harder than any supervillain ever could.

 

Filled with a new kind of rage, the hero dropped the whole "coming quietly" schtick, instead choosing to bust through the door that led to the main room of the warehouse. The SWAT team and Rhodes seemed to get the memo, running in all around Tony, pointing their guns at the unsuspecting men and shouting various warnings. A good amount of the miscreants obeyed, laying their hands on their heads and dropping to the ground as to avoid getting shot. But others weren't so compliant.

 

One man with long, blonde hair lunged for a weapon to his right, but Tony was faster. He blasted the young man, sending him to the ground gasping for air. After that, more of Toomes' crew started to act up as well and gunfire erupted all around Tony, the single act of defiance stirring something up in the rest of the men.

 

 A man whom Tony recognized as Brice came out from behind a cart of materials with a large weapon containing four blue, pointed spikes at the end. Just as the machine began to whir to life, however, Iron Man was only inches from Brice. He concentrated all his anger into a single punch, knocking down both Jackson and the weapon. Only did he walk away when he heard the satisfying crack of the man's head against the concrete floor of the warehouse.

 

Tony disregarded any other of Toomes' men, letting Rhodey and the police handle it. He was dead-set on finding Toomes himself.

 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, scan the building for anyone matching Toomes' figure," he spoke, firing a repulsor blast at a particularly irritating guy who was firing a pistol at his armor.

 

"Match found on the east side of the building," They spoke. The billionaire weaved his way through the warehouse, following his A.I's instructions. "I would advise you to go quickly. It appears he is in a hurry to escape."

 

 Within seconds he was face-to-face with the man, helmet completely retracted into his suit.

 

"You're not going anywhere," Tony hissed, suited hand aimed at the criminal mastermind. Toomes dropped his duffel bag, mouth falling slightly ajar. "You really think you could get away with hurting a child?" Tony spat, "He almost didn't make it thanks to that drug."

 

Toomes' demeanor shifting, something flashing across his face for a quick second, "He's alive?"

 

"Of course he's-" Tony stopped short, realizing why Toomes had asked. "You meant to kill him?" Toomes didn't respond, but that was the only answer Tony needed. He fired his repulsors straight into the villain's sternum, sending him flying backward. Tony advanced towards the man, mind reeling. Of course, he knew how much damage had been done to Peter but Tony didn't think this guy would have truly tried to murder him. He had a daughter only a few years older than Pete. One that went to the same _school_ , no less.

 

Tony saw red as he grabbed the collar of Toomes' shirt, bringing his fist down onto the wrinkle-filled face once, twice, then three times.

 

"Was it worth it?" Tony shouted. "Hurting a kid like him? He was only ever trying to help. I don't care what bullshit excuses you have. I don't care if you got screwed over. You could have sued me for all I care. He's a god damned _kid_. A kid that has so much potential. He has a family. He's got friends," Tony ranted, dropping Toomes and promptly kicking him in the ribs. He repeated the action, then blasted the man again. "An entire human life and you were willing to wipe that all away. For what? An illegal arms dealing business?" Tony kicked him again.

 

In his fit of rage, Tony didn't focus on anything but ensuring that Toomes was suffering, so the hero didn't notice when the villain reached into his pant leg. By the time Tony pulled back his fist it was too late. The force of the weapon Toomes had fired knocked the wind out of Tony even before he hit the ground. The weapons seemed to be working, as Tony wasn't able to move a muscle.

 

Toomes slowly got to his feet. "You don't think I would have had it any other way?" The man stood over Tony, continuing to point the weapon at him. Whatever it was seemed to be keeping Tony planted firmly on the ground. When he tried to lift himself up, Toomes simply said, "You're not getting up. This is increasing the gravity in the metal of your suit. I'm in control."

 

Tony gave the man his best glare. "You had a choice. You chose to hurt him."

 

"And he _chose_ to stick his nose in other people's business. It's not my fault your little spider pet didn't get the memo when I dropped him in that lake. I did what I had to do to protect my industry."

 

"You're a monster," Tony growled, struggling against his invisible restraints. Toomes didn't respond, taking another step forward. Tony took a good look at him. The man kept a hard expression as if he knew what he was doing, but Tony knew that face all too well. Toomes didn't have a clue as to what he was going to do. There was no way out of this one and he knew it.

 

Still, he remained thirsty for revenge. The man slid out his pistol from its place on his belt, aiming it directly between Tony's eyes. The billionaire held his breath, opening his mouth to try and reason with Toomes as he clicked the safety off.

 

"You-" Tony began, but didn't get the chance to finish as Toomes was blasted so hard and fast that Tony didn't even blink before he was across the room, unconscious and slumped against the wall.

 

Rhodey stood with his hand still raised, moving quickly over to Tony.

 

"You alright, man?" Tony blinked. "Tones?"

 

"Um," He cleared his throat, pointing to the dropped remote. "Yeah, yeah. Just click that red button there. He increased the gravity in my suit. I'm stuck."

 

Rhodey did as he was told, hauling Tony up. They simultaneously looked over to Toomes, whose face remained bloody and swollen from Tony's beating. A small pool of blood was forming around the man from his broken nose. Tony felt zero remorse.

 

"Let's get this bastard in front of a judge."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took Peter 3 days to fully regain sensation and another to walk. It wasn't until his 5th day at the compound that he got any words on Toomes besides the fact that the cops and Tony had busted him.

 

Tony entered the lab where Peter was tinkering with a small robot he had made out of boredom. For a facility that housed the Avengers, there wasn't much to do.

"Hey, kid," The billionaire greeted. "What are you making?"

 

Peter glanced up at Tony, then back down to his little project. It spun in a circle, just as he had programmed it to do. "Nothing. Just got bored," He simply stated, pointing to his contraption. They were both silent for a moment, Pete fiddling with his screwdriver subconsciously.

 

Tony cleared his throat, "We, uh, got a word on Toomes' trial date." Peter internally flinched at the name, the event still fresh in his mind. "It's tomorrow."

 

Peter nodded, "Okay."

 

"I've been speaking with my lawyers. They wanted me to ask you if you'd be willing to testify."

 

Peter looked up at Tony with his still-bruised eyes, stomach dropping. Was he crazy? "Mr. Stark-"

 

"I know, it sounds ridiculous. But he could get a far longer sentencing this way. As of right now, the longest he could get is 25 years. Add assault, kidnapping, and all the other shit he did to you in the mix and it would get him put away for the rest of his life. Granted that isn't very long, but still."

 

Peter gripped the end of the screwdriver so hard his knuckles turned white, "I don't think that's a good idea."

 

"Peter, if we-" Tony was cut off when the plastic end of the screwdriver Peter was holding completely shattered, pieces flying all around the workshop.

 

" _Shit_. I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Peter trailed off, beginning to pick up the shards.

 

"Peter," Tony started. The teenager was furiously scraping up the plastic, breathing becoming too fast, "Hey, _Peter_ ," Which is when Tony made the mistake of grabbing Peter by the wrists. The boy lashed out, mind flashing back to when Toomes was dragging him across the warehouse, before he shoved the billionaire square in the chest, sending him the length of the room until his back collided with the wall.

 

Peter sunk to the floor, scrambling back as fast as his cast would allow until his own back hit the wall on his side of the room. Tears clouded his vision when he looked up and saw his mentor coughing, attempting to get a breath in.

 

Peter brought his hands up, burying his face in them and brought his good knee up, resting his forehead on it. He tried to keep the tears at bay, shallow breaths emitting from him, but it was no use. Once he felt Tony's hand on his back he let out everything he had been holding in for the past five days. The sheer emotional stress Peter had been enduring was unbearable. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the faces of the men who had caused him so much torment. Sometimes, he saw May's dead body. Or Ned's. Or Liz's. Sometimes in his dreams, everybody he knew was on the ground, bruised, bloodied, and staring up at him with empty, lifeless eyes. And it was always his fault.

 

"I-I'm sorry I couldn't get out," Peter's voice broke along with Tony's heart. "I'm sorry I couldn't fight back," he whispered, body wracking with sobs.

 

"Oh, _kid_ ," Tony breathed out, pulling Peter into a hug. The teen hugged back tightly, burying his face in the man's blazer, tears dampening the fabric. He hoped it wasn't too expensive. "None of this was your fault. They caught you off guard. They restrained you with vibranium. Not even Cap would have been able to get out of that."

 

"I should've been able to find a way. I just sat there and let it happen-"

 

"There was nothing you could have done to prevent it. What matters is that you stayed strong. You didn't give up or surrender even when they beat you within an inch of your life. God knows what I would've done, had I been in your position."

 

"But," Peter hesitated, not sure if he should bring up such a sensitive topic, "When you were- When you made your first suit, they-"

 

"That was a completely different set of circumstances, Peter. I'm proud of you," Peter's breath hitched. _Proud?_

 

Tony rubbed a calloused hand on the teen's back. He was silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Eventually, he sighed, "I know it's hard. I know it feels hopeless and you're scared. But I promise I'm never going to let something like this happen again. Not to you, not to your family, not to your friends, _nobody_. Do you understand?"

 

Peter's crying had calmed down to the occasional sniffle at this point. He nodded against Tony's shoulder.

 

"Good. Now, how about you go back to your room and call your Aunt. I'm sure she'd love to hear all about how you created a fully-functioning robot in under 5 minutes," Tony said, helping Peter to his feet as he rubbed his eyes.

 

"What about the trial?" Peter asked, eyeing the dent in the wall where Tony's back had hit it.

 

"Don't waste any more of your thought on that. It was stupid of me to ask, I'm sorry. This dude's like, 66. 25 years might as well be a death sentence," Tony remarked. Peter nodded, grabbing his crutches before walking towards the door. He stopped a step away from it, turning around.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

 

"Anytime, kid," He responded, "And it's Tony."

 

Peter nodded, pretending not to notice the way Tony rubbed his back or winced when he took a step. He'd have apologized if not for the call the man had to take. Later, he decided.

 

A minute passes and Peter was back in his new room. Once Bruce had deemed him healthy enough that he didn't need to be bound to a hospital bed the previous day, Tony had ordered the staff to prepare a room for the teen. Peter didn't feel one-hundred percent, but he knew he had recovered enough that he should have been able to go back home.

 

It was sweet, really. The fact that everyone had wanted to keep an eye on him, "The Kid", for a few extra days even when they didn't need to.

 

Peter sat down on the king-sized bed, carefully setting his crutches against the bedside table. He pulled his phone out, staring at the lock screen which contained a picture of him and the decathlon team from the state-wide championship they'd won the previous year. He found himself wishing he had participated in nationals the previous week. It had felt like forever ago.

 

Peter set his phone back on the table, remembering that he had F.R.I.D.A.Y at his command.

 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, call May for me please," He called out.

 

"Of course, Mr. Parker," They replied, voice quickly being replaced with the sound of ringing. May picked up a few seconds later.

 

"Hello?" She said. The relief Peter felt upon hearing her voice was ineffable.

 

"Hey, May," He grinned.

 

"Hey! How's your retreat going? And how's your leg? I can't believe they wouldn't let me see you," she exclaimed. Peter felt his stomach lurch. Tony had come up with the excuse of a lab accident for the cause of Peter's leg since it wouldn't be healed for a few weeks, even with his powers. He felt terrible for having to lie to her.

 

But maybe he didn't have to.

 

"Um," Peter started, the words getting caught in his throat.

 

May must have detected the sadness in his voice, "What's wrong Peter?"

 

"May," He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, "S-Something bad happened."

 

 

_fin._  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now: @mcuspidrman !
> 
> You can send in prompts for a fic, a lovely message, or just talk if you would like :) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading !

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! That was a rollercoaster of whump and angst. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Also, this is my first work in ao3, so feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated :)
> 
> Thank you for reading !


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